


A Hogwarts' Christmas Carol

by Diggory_Venn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Violence, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Severus Snape Lives, Severus Snape-centric, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 15,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21662653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diggory_Venn/pseuds/Diggory_Venn
Summary: Snape is visited by three spirits in the hope of saving his soul.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape, Susan Bones/Ron Weasley
Comments: 25
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

Voldemort was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. Neville had sliced the snake like a Christmas cake. Harry sacrificed himself only to rise again and kill the last mangled bit of Voldemort’s soul. Voldemort’s body was destroyed, cremated, the ashes mingled with the angelica archangelica herb and scattered to the four winds. No one believed he would actually regenerate after his horcruxes were destroyed, but for the Wizarding World’s peace of mind, all precautions were taken. Snape himself had helped to gather the herb. Old Voldemort was as dead as a door nail. 

Snape knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? He had practically felt Voldemort’s death like a pulse of energy that shook the ground and rattled the remaining glass in the windows of the Shrieking Shack. Of course, he had been lying down on the ground, bleeding out of his neck, trying to unscrew the bottle of anti-venom, and cursing anyone, thing, and object that would listen, for his pain. Eventually, the cap relented and the gaping hole slowly reduced. With Voldemort presumably dead, Snape no longer saw the need to play dead. He slowly made his way out of the shack, gasping and stumbling in pain all the way. He reached a vantage point and looked on the aftermath of the war.

He didn’t feel guilty for missing the final battle; he was supposed to be dead anyway. He could leave now; no one would ever know he survived. Even as he thought on this, his head felt faint, and he realized that he forgot to take the blood replenishing potions. 

“Professor Snape?!” someone gasped out to the right of him. He saw a darkening outline of impossibly fuzzy hair before the world titled sideways. 

He supposed it was for the best that he was caught.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the defeat of Lord Voldemort, Snape was still as hard and sharp as ice. It seemed as though, if he melted like ice, there would simply be nothing left but water running everywhere until it evaporated. Perhaps without his harsh demeanor and biting remarks, there would be nothing left of his essence; he would just evaporate. It could be that that was what he was afraid of, not that he was afraid of anything. 

Maybe Professor Granger knew this, so she didn’t try to change or challenge him. She was just kind. Even when he spit bullets of sarcasm at rapid-fire speed, she just smiled as one would with a temper tantrum from a teenager. How she managed to communicate with him at all was a mystery to her co-workers and friends. He seemed to hate even the idea of people, never mind actual interaction. Years had passed since the final battle, yet Snape remained as unchanged as the stars above, and, just like those stars, he might already be dead before anyone even noticed.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione steadied herself outside of the dungeon’s door, as a nervous hand fluttered around her hair and eyes, fixing and preening her appearance. She took a deep breath, fixed a smile on her face, and knocked on the door. Her nervous hand finally stilled while her other hand held a small, wrapped gift. She stood waiting. And waiting. And waiting. 

Just as she began to wonder if anyone would answer, the door flew open and hit the stone wall behind it. Splinters flew, but Hermione resisted the urge to shudder in fear. She maintained her smile even as the dark, foreboding figure of Severus Snape appeared in the doorway. He seemed to be half made of shadows; his being was consumed with them. Hermione could hardly see his face in the dark, but the sharp glare from his eyes cut through the darkness. 

“Yes, Professor Granger?”

‘How can he make his voice so cold?’ she wondered before she answered. 

“Happy Christmas Professor Snape,” she said warmly as she handed him the small package. 

He started down at it without taking it before looking back up at her again with a scoff. 

“Again, Professor Granger? What is it that you hope to gain from this annual gift?”

“Again, Professor Snape, I don’t hope to gain anything from it. I merely want to give you a Christmas gift.” She hoped he would leave it at that this year, but, judging from the sneer that was currently raising his lips, there would be no such exception. 

“Professor Granger,” he began, with a cruel expression on his face, “As we are colleagues, I can no longer refer to you by my favorite moniker of insufferable know-it-all.”

‘Oh no, here it comes,’ Hermione thought with a grimace. 

“However,” he drawled on (as she knew he would), “professional courtesy is the limit of my restraint. Will you continue to push this?”

“Well,” Hermione gulped “can’t giving a present to a colleague still be a part of professional courtesy?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “But do you give presents to any of your other colleagues?”

“Yes,” she said wearily (he asked this every time!).

“But not as expensive or carefully selected, yes?” 

Hermione didn’t answer, and instead looked at the ground in an attempt to hide her blush. 

“As I thought.” Snape turned dismissively away from her. “Professor Granger, I resent your pity and your presence. In the future, please refrain from any familiarity with this particular colleague. It is rather nauseating.” 

And with that, he slammed and warded the door. 

“Professor Snape!” Hermione called angrily as she knocked vigorously on the door. “It isn’t pity!” she yelled at the unyielding door. She stopped knocking as her head fell towards her chest. “It isn’t pity,” she said again only this time whispered, to no one but herself. 

Tears started to form at the bottoms of her eyes, but she pushed them away as she placed the gift on at the floor of the door. 

“Happy Christmas Professor Snape,” she said softly as she turned and walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter this time! I really just want to finish this by Christmas. Also, if you haven't noticed already, I steal so much from Charles Dickens, so if you like anything, it's probably from him.

No one else bothered him for the rest of the evening, and he never went to retrieve the gift. A bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky kept him company every night and Christmas Eve was no different. Sleep never came and he never wanted it to. An uneasy stupor was all he could ask for. 

As he looked down at the bottle’s label, one of the moving illustrations appeared to change its form. He wondered at that. All his life he’d seen photographs and paintings move, but to change shape as though someone were pouring ink on it? Just how much had he had to drink? His eyes shifted to look at the liquid level in the bottle (not enough to be hallucinating surely!), and when his eyes returned to the label, the illustration had taken on a whole new form. It now looked like…but no, it couldn’t be! 

The illustration now bore the likeness of Lucius Malfoy. He didn’t look angry, nor did his usual smug smile appear. He merely stared at Snape, who stared fixedly back until suddenly, the face was gone. The illustration now returned to its original form with no hint of alteration or that anything preternatural had occurred. 

To say that he was not startled would be untrue. However, he quickly moved on from the strange occurrence. Days and nights of no sleep, drinking, and constant simmering anger and annoyance could play tricks on anyone’s mind. 

It felt strange to feel surprise and fear again, if only for a brief moment. He didn’t feel anything anymore nowadays, awake or asleep. He hated the world, hated that he was alive, hated everyone living for daring to be happy, to smile, to talk of meaningless things, when so many had suffered and died. No one deserved to be happy, especially him, and he would do his damnedest to make everyone as miserable as himself. And, dwelling on these malicious thoughts, the whisky slowly pulled him into oblivion… 

Bang, crack, crash!

He woke with a start to a hangover headache made doubly worse by the cacophony of noise coming from just outside his door. 

“Whatever is out there making that racket had better be prepared to find a stirring rod shoved into their heart” Snape mumbled to himself as he rose towards the door. 

Suddenly, he was blasted backwards by his own unhinged door as a bright light encompassed his room. 

As he cradled his head in his arm and shielded himself from the wooden splinters with his other arm, he saw the tall, glowing, transparent figure of Lucius Malfoy gliding through the door with an equally transparent cane floating by his side. 

Snape was more then surprised; he was flabbergasted! He would have been less surprised if Lucius were actually dead and this were just his ghost. But he wasn’t dead. He was alive and well at Malfoy Manor as of last week, although he was under house arrest. These things Snape knew and could not be denied, but Lucius’ apparition in his rooms was equally undeniable. Despite all these facts witnessed by his eyes, he was still incredulous and fought against his senses. 

“What do you want?” said Snape, as cold and caustic as ever. He remained on the ground and looked at the specter with undisguised disbelief and impatience. 

“A great deal,” replied the vision. “Aren’t you going to ask me who I am?”

Snape scoffed at this. “I already know who you are. You’re the proud, vain, stuck-up, selfish bastard who is probably my only friend. A better question is, ‘why are you here?’” 

The apparition chuckled and flipped his hair over his shoulders. “Am I your only friend, Severus? How pitiful.” 

“It is considering what a piss-poor friend and human being you are!” Snape snarled back. 

Again, the apparition chuckled, infuriating him even more. “Yes, well. As your only friend, I am here tonight to warn you, that you have a chance for hope and happiness.” 

“Happiness,” Snape enunciated disgustedly. “There is no one less deserving of happiness and hope then me. Besides, you aren’t even here.” 

“You don’t believe in me,” the Lucius vision observed smiling. 

“I don’t.” 

“Why do you doubt your senses?”

“Why should I not?” Snape replied. “I’m wickedly smashed, and with all the potent dark magic in the world you expect me to trust my own eyes? For all I know you are the result of an overdose of Root of Aconite or a lack of Fluxweed. There’s more of Sopophorous Bean then substance about you.”

“Ha ha hah!” the Sopophorous Bean laughed aloud. “I see the whiskey has done nothing to temper your wit.”

Snape could not restrain the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. Despite the pig that Lucius was, he did always laugh at Snape’s jibes. 

“How are you here?” Snape inquired. “Are you dead?” 

“No, indeed not.”

“Then how are you here? Did you Splinch your soul right out of your body?”

“No. I’m merely a messenger, a semi-corporeal representative of my fully physical self.” 

“Huh,” snorted Snape. “And you ask why I doubt my senses?”

“Just consider me a patronus, old friend,” Lucius smirked. Suddenly the mood changed. The air felt heavy and Lucius smile dimmed along with the light emanating from his body. “You will be haunted,” Lucius resumed, “by three Spirits.”

Silence filled the air as Snape stared at Lucius and raised his eyebrow in scrutiny. Finally, he spoke. 

“Is that the chance for hope and happiness you mentioned?” 

“It is. Without their visits, you cannot hope to change your present situation.” 

“There is nothing wrong with my present situation.” Snape dismissed. 

“You are happy then?”

Snape could not answer, and he could not bring himself to look at the vision. 

“Happiness is purely a matter of chance,” he said wryly. “Fortune has never favored me in any form.”

“Now fortune has,” Lucius countered. “Will you turn away this chance at happiness?” 

“Do I have a choice?” Snape answered resignedly. 

“Whether or not you learn from them is entirely your choice.” Lucius fixed him with a stare that was almost affectionate. “I sincerely hope you accept this gift, old friend. Expect the first ghost when the bell tolls one.” 

And in the blink of an eye, the vision vanished, and Snape was left huddled on the floor in part wonder and dread. 

Though a small sliver of Snape’s heart was touched by Lucius’ message of hope and happiness, a few minutes after his departure, Snape’s mind again played host to an innumerable number of self-deprecating thoughts. 

“Happiness,” he murmured to himself, “a thing you can’t touch, a thing you can’t see….” 

It was to these wandering thoughts that Snape was gradually lulled into a drunken sleep on the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

He was rudely awakened by yet another bright light as the hanging wall clock in his room tolled one. Groaning at the light suddenly invading his space, Snape was again assaulted by laughter and a swift ‘bump’ to his head. 

“The hell…?” he questioned as he raised a hand to the sizeable lump that was already forming on his head. 

“Snivelly Snape! Drinking our own potions!” 

“Peeves!” Snape growled out. The poltergeist was floating over his head with a wide grin on his impish face. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’ms the first to guide you, your most honorable slovenliness.” Peeves said with an austere expression as he hung himself upside down. 

“You're the first guide from Lucius?”

Peeves gave no response; he merely blew a raspberry as he flipped himself right side up again. 

Snape could not believe it. Peeves was his guide to supposed happiness?! He might as well kill himself now. He had also never known the ghost to be so flippant and disrespectful with him. Usually just a glare would subdue Peeve’s churlish behavior, but for some reason, Peeves seemed completely impervious to his attempts to stare him down. 

“Get out of here Peeves!” Snape yelled, though with not as much force in his voice as he would’ve liked. He had woken up not too long ago after all. 

“I cans’t your loatheness,” Peeves replied in his same sing-song voice. 

“And why not?” Snape demanded, ignoring the offending nicknames. 

“Not suppo’sed to.” Peeves was examining his fingernails with apparent disinterest as he continued this conversation, but he could not quite keep his smirk off of his lips. 

“Peeves, I am not above hexing you. If this course of action fails due to your…transparency, I am not above inventing a potion that will render you solid. It has been too long since you have experienced physical pain. Now leave.”

“Nope.” 

“….? ‘Nope’? That is all you have to say after I’ve threatened you with the return of bodily harm? ‘Nope’?”

“No time, your smelliness!” 

And with that, Peeves grabbed his shoulder, and before he could even analyze this last interaction, they had Apparated away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for domestic violence and abuse. This chapter took me forever to write, but I tried to depict hardly any violence. The emotional abuse is more prevalent.

They arrived suddenly at Snape’s childhood home on Spinner’s End in Cokeworth. The dilapidated house was currently in ruins, but this version of the house was less so. It wasn’t new, but it was nowhere near its current state of disrepair. Snape was looking at his childhood home as he remembered it: slightly forlorn but not destroyed. 

“How-?” he started questionably, but Peeves was already floating away. He had even started to recite an appalling song of his own creation:

Dumblys gone his wending way  
His bending, bender, bendy way  
Dumblys gone so now I say  
Bumbly Dumblys gay!

Snape quickly realized that any answers to be gained would not be from the crooning poltergeist. He would have to answer his own questions. As such, he walked towards the house with squared shoulders despite the trembling of his hands. 

There was nothing to fear here. It wasn’t real. 

Peeves was lounging on his back with arms supporting his head as he whistled near the door of the cottage. As Snape approached closer, he grinned cheekily before floating through the door. Snape hesitated a moment and tried to open the door but finding himself equally incorporeal, eventually floated through the door to follow. 

The door creaked as it always did when it opened. The inside was dark and damp, but not as dark and damp as it usually was. A few candles lit the sitting room while some socks were nailed to the wall. The candles may not have been terribly bright and the socks may be worn and patched, but there was still a lighter feeling here than on any other day of the year. 

Snape stepped further in and attempted to close the door more out of habit than anything else before remembering his current state. This reminder served to remove him further from the situation and helped him control his breathing. 

“Smells don’t it?” Peeves remarked disinterestedly, lying on top of a shelf. 

“I was born in this place. I was a boy here,” Snape remarked more to himself than Peeves. It all looked so familiar, exactly as it was when he was very young. 

Peeves ignored him, choosing instead to feign snoring in his sleep. 

Snape walked further into the room, examining the socks and candles, when he heard a voice he thought to never hear again, call out “Severus!”

He turned to face the speaker, disbelieving all the awhile, when his mother walked down the stairs and into the room. She was so much younger than he ever remembered her being, as she moved about the room with her wand making sure the candles were all still lit. Her face didn’t yet have the lines he knew would appear there, through sorrow and pain. She still looked tired, but for today at least, she had a rare smile on her face. 

“You lip is trembling, Snivy,” said Peeves, apparently no longer asleep. “And is that a pimple on your cheek?” 

Snape raised a hand to his cheek to find a tear running down his face, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. His mother was in front of him again! 

“Mother,” he said hesitantly, reaching an arm out to her. She didn’t turn to look at him but instead looked up the stairs, hands on her hips, and called again “Severus!” 

“These are but shadows of things that have been” said Peeves, “so she can’t smell you, Prof.” 

Without even thinking, Snape cast a quick, non-verbal Silencio on the frustrating poltergeist. Peeves gave a look of outrage when he opened his mouth but nothing came out before giving a rude hand sign before floating away through the ceiling. 

Snape moved closer to his mother until he was standing directly in front of her. Her eyes looked right through him, but he couldn’t look away from her face, memorizing every detail. He vaguely heard quick footsteps coming down the stairs, but it didn’t really register until he felt himself as a young child run through his projected form. 

“You’re finally here.” His mother said. “It’s Christmas morning you know.” 

“I know mum,” said little Snape, looking down at his feet. He couldn’t have been more than four years old. 

“Come on then, don’t you want to see if Father Christmas came?” 

“Yes!” younger Snape exclaimed with a smile. 

Grown Snape looked on in amazement as he and his mother discovered small, cheap sweets in the toes of the hanging socks. Peeves slowly reentered the room and placed his head near Snape’s shoulder, mouthing up at him until he released the spell. 

Peeves had apparently learned his lesson as he waited for a minute before saying “Kind of a poor Christmas eh?”

“Not at all,” Snape replied, never taking his eyes from the scene in front of him. “We never had money for sweets. I’d forgotten she was so fond of Christmas in those early years. It certainly didn’t last long.” 

“Dat so.” 

Peeves continued to look up at him as Snape watched himself and his mother eating the sweets in the candlelight. 

“Where’s dearest daddy?” 

“Probably drunk off his arse somewhere,” Snape replied without really considering it. However, as he looked around the room, his memory of the day started to return to him, and he felt cold dread fill him. 

“We should leave. Now.” 

Snape turned away from the heartwarming scene to exit the cottage, but on approaching the door, he realized he could not go through it. Somehow, it was solid against his intangible self. He turned, slight desperation in his eyes, to Peeves, who did not move or react to this sudden mood change. 

‘It’s not real. It’s not real,’ Snape thought to himself before addressing Peeves directly. “Why can I not leave?”

“Dunno. Tink we have watch til it’s over.”

Snape clenched his teeth and tightened his hands into fists, but made no other move to leave. How could this be happiness? 

“Peeves! Show me no more! Lead me home. Why do you delight to torture me?” 

As if on queue, the door opened suddenly behind him, as shuffling steps and a strong whiskey scent filled the tiny room. Snape didn’t turn to see who entered, but everyone else did. Snape felt his father (his worthless, cruel father) walk by him to reach his smaller self and his suddenly trembling mother. 

“Wha’s this?” Tobias Snape slurred out. 

“I-It’s Christmas day, Tobias,” Eileen mumbled as she separated herself from child Snape, who seemed to be curling in on himself. 

“Huh,” Tobias snorted, lumbering further into the room. “’hought the street was less crow-d then usual.”

His mother seemed to shrink in on herself as his father neared her, the stench of his breath clouding the room. Tobias’s half closed eyes opened fully to look around the darkened room. Snape could tell the moment his eyes landed on the sweets and on the child, and judging by his mother’s expression, she noticed it too. 

“You spen- money to get this li-le prick somethan he don’t even need?” 

Snape didn’t think his mother could get any smaller but somehow she managed. She opened her mouth to reply, but the child was too quick. 

“She didn’t buy it!” tiny-Snape declared. His high voice shook and his clenched fists trembled, but he carried on. “Father Christmas did!” 

Tobias turned all his attention to the child, a mean glint in his hazy eyes. 

“Father Christmas?” he said in a nasally, mocking tone. “Father Christmas brought a little shite like you sweets did he?” 

As Tobias stumbled towards his wife and son, Snape closed his eyes, fists tightly balled at his side. He still heard his mother’s scream, his own small gasp of pain, the strange mix of sharp flesh-on-flesh slaps with the dull thuds of weight on the wooden floor. He felt himself trembling. Why? Why was he trembling? This wasn’t happening right now, it was in the past. His father wasn’t an evil force; he was just a fat drunk coward who liked to beat on those smaller than him. Snape had been a Death Eater, a dark wizard, served and was tortured by the Dark Lord, yet somehow his father still loomed larger in his mind. 

“We can go now Snapey. I think you seen what you need seen, eh?” 

Snape opened his eyes to see Peeves floating very closely to his head. His father had moved on as child Snape and his mother kneeled on the floor. Child Snape was crying, but his mother just looked blankly ahead, bruises darkening on her arms. 

“Yes,” Snape gasped out, not even recognizing his own voice it sounded so thin and weak. “I’ve seen enough.” 

This time as he turned to the door, he was able to move through it, and he left the darkening room behind.


	7. Chapter 7

They now were in a dark tunnel, walking towards a blinding light on the other side. Snape briefly thought that he might by dead, but he found he didn’t really care. 

“Every Christmas was like that,” Snape said more to himself than to Peeves. 

“Dat so?” he replied nonchalantly. 

“Yes.” Snape felt shaken. ‘Where was his usual bite?’ he thought sardonically as a chuckle escaped him. Even the poltergeist looked at him funnily for that. It was all too funny suddenly, this mid-life crisis. ‘Actually, he was way past the middle of his life based on his scar tissue,’ he thought, which brought on another chuckle. Peeves gave him another sidelong look but didn’t comment. They were nearly at the light now. 

“Up next on our ‘Git-Snape Tour,’” Peeves cackled, “Hoggy-Warts!” 

As they stepped forward, the light consumed them.


	8. Chapter 8

The first hint as to their next location came as Snape inhaled, and a whiff of cinnamon and strangely, a kind of sewer smell came to him. Despite the odd combination, one whiff was all it took to know the place and time: the Slytherin common room during Christmas. Even when the room came into view, he couldn’t tell exactly what Christmas though. They were all relatively the same anyway. The sewer smell and overall dankness of the dungeon the Slytherins were shoved into clashed horribly with the pomanders placed by house elves the night before, but Snape’s nostalgia made it a sweet mixture.

“Back at HoggyWarts!” Peeves said with glee, shooting forward to rest near the fireplace. 

“Yes,” Snape said gravely, looking around the empty Slytherin common room. It seemed to be again Christmas morning, so he knew his younger self had to be here somewhere. 

As if on cue, a slightly older version then the last vision of him came running down the stairs to rest in front of the fireplace. The rooms were always too cold in the dungeons, so he wasn’t surprised to see himself down here early to hoard the fire. However, there didn’t seem to be a need to do so this morning as no one else came following after him. 

“Why-s the Snapey snake all alonesome?”

Snape snorted. “It’s Christmas Peeves. Most every one of these privileged snakes are home in their mansions. It’s only poor slobs like me that remain.” 

Peeves responded by hanging upside down in the younger Snape’s face and making obscene hand gestures while young Snape stared blankly into the flames. Grown Snape watched himself, realizing that there he was, alone again, when all the other boys had gone home for the jolly holidays. 

“They were all very much the same, my Christmas’s in this place.” Snape said more to himself than Peeves. 

Following his thoughts, the common room changed around him to the next Christmas and the next and the next, and he saw himself change from a boy to a young man, always alone at Hogwarts for Christmas. The common room changed very little through the passing years, though Snape certainly grew taller with longer hanging hair. 

The memories stopped when Snape was around 17, leaning over the fireplace with one hand on the mantle and the other fingering a handkerchief as he focused intently on it. The common room looked a little worse for the wear. The fireplace and chairs remained unchanged, but the stairs were worn and there seemed to be more cobwebs in the corners. Snape was still alone, but now a battered piece of luggage sat on the floor beside him. 

Adult Snape felt himself grow cold as he recognized this Christmas specifically. It was his last Christmas at Hogwarts. He was spending the holiday at the Malfoy’s mansion with other Dark Lord sympathizers before he himself took the mark that summer. This moment by the fire was one of the many turning points in his journey to becoming a Death Eater. The handkerchief he held in his hand had been a long-ago Christmas gift from Lily, a remnant of their now failed relationship, and he knew that the 17-year-old Snape was contemplating not going to the Malfoy’s at all. He knew exactly when 17-year-old Snape remembered that Lily was dating James Potter, that she wasn’t at Hogwarts for Christmas, that she wasn’t in his life anymore, and never would be again even if he did try to be better. He knew when the anger and humiliation overcame him, and he watched as the bitter young man threw the handkerchief into the fire to watch it burn. 

His younger self turned from the fire, grabbed the suitcase, and marched out of the common room without looking back. Snape, however, kept his eyes fixed on the handkerchief as it and the rest of the common room faded into darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

A new scene appeared suddenly before him. He was in a cozy sitting room, with well-worn but comfortable furniture all covered in doilies. A small tree filled one corner of the room with homemade ginger snaps and popcorn garlands hanging of its branches. Peeves was nowhere to be seen. Snape couldn’t recognize the room and as three figures appeared, it became apparent that this wasn’t his memory. 

In the middle of the room, both seated on the soft carpet, sat James and, now, Lily Potter. Between the two of them sat a baby Harry, obviously still teething as he chewed on a plastic block. When he tried to throw the block at his father, James only laughed and threw it back at him. Harry, unfazed, picked it up, chewed on it, and threw it at his father again. This time Lily laughed as the block hit his nose. 

Snape sighed. Of course he should be tortured with his own memories and than subjected to his love’s happiest. Without him; always without him. Life needed to beat on someone, why not him? It always had. 

Snape looked on with surprisingly no horror or disgust. Just weariness. So much of his life had been spent mourning and hating the dead. He had never seen Lily so happy. Her smile was beautiful and dazzling, just like he remembered. He always failed to help those he loved. He was always failing Lily, dead or alive. She looked so beautiful here, so happy, and this was probably because she was without him. If these trips to the past taught him anything, it was that he was a curse who hurt all those around him. Darkness followed him, and no matter what he did to fight it, to try to earn some shred of redemption, it was never enough. Even now he was still failing. 

He knew that this scene wasn’t meant for him, but still he watched the couple and their child. A song from a film he had seen long ago entered his mind, and he hummed it as he looked on, singing it in his mind. 

You, you were new to me  
You, you were spring  
You, you were true to me  
You, you were everything

You, you were good for me  
You were my day  
Did all you could for me  
I let you go away

And now I can see  
Now you're a dream gone by  
Oh how could there be  
Such a fool as I

I who must travel on  
What hope for me?  
Dream where my past has gone  
Live with a memory

You, my only hope  
You, my only love

You...  
You...  
You...

‘It was always you,’ he thought a tear formed in his right eye and slowly fell down his face. He had no choice but to travel on. Harry was safe, Voldemort and his followers defeated, and, cursed or not, he had at least helped to bring it about. Lily and James were dead, had been for a long time along with hundreds of others. Maybe he could say goodbye to her. As the sitting room faded into darkness, he let the darkness take him too, though he kept his eyes fixed on Lily’s smiling face until the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics are from the song "You...You" from the Albert Finney Scrooge musical. If you haven't heard the song go listen to it because it is beautiful, and I think it really fits Snape's longing and sorrow. Thanks for all the comments; you are giving me the will to finish this story!


	10. Chapter 10

Snape didn’t want to know what Christmas was next. None so far had been brilliant, but after joining the Dark Lord, they could only get worse. Some were certainly spent at lavish parties thrown by the Malfoy’s, others spent being tortured by his fellow Death Eaters. Most were spent alone in his quarters, drinking to forget all the previous Christmas’s. 

As the light returned, Snape contemplated not opening his eyes at all. What was the point of this ridiculous vision? Happiness? He’d never felt more miserable. He didn’t need all his previous failures paraded before him in Technicolor. What if he just decided to lie there, to never wake up, never open his eyes? Maybe that was how he achieved happiness; by dying. 

Still, if he didn’t open his eyes, no doubt that little piece of vermin Peeves would yell and taunt until he did. He wasn’t sure why he listened to Peeves now when he never had before, but Peeves seemed to have extra powers gifted for this journey. It made him furious. He opened his eyes. 

This was not the Christmas he had expected to see. 

There his younger self sat, though not so young as before, in the Headmaster’s office in one of the Headmaster’s cushy velvet armchairs usually occupied by a student. He was facing the desk, but the Headmaster’s chair was empty. The silver machines still turned and occasionally made clicking noises in an otherwise silent office. Clearly he had been drinking as empty sherry bottles were scattered about in the oddest places. One was even perched in Fawkes’s nest, the phoenix curled up in a tiny ball around it, sleeping. Young Snape was slouched in the armchair, his arms on the armrests the only thing keeping his body from completely sloughing to the floor as he took a swig from the whiskey bottle in his hand. None of this was unusual for a Snape Christmas, but lying face-up on the floor next to his feet was Albus Dumbledore, sprawled out and equally drunk, a sherry bottle being rocked in one arm like a baby while the other conducted the tune he was humming happily. Both men seemed happily content to be completely bladdered as evidenced from the sleepy smiles on both their faces.

Snape couldn’t entirely remember this Christmas, but he did remember Dumbledore inviting him up for a drink after the feast and waking up the next morning in his own bed with a massive hangover. This was the Christmas after Lily died in October; the first Christmas Snape had felt entirely alone. Now there really was no chance for them to rekindle their friendship. She was dead, gone. Christmas was nothing but misery after someone died, the lights, joy, and frivolity serving only to drive the grief deeper into his chest, the emphasis on family and friends merely highlighting his lack of either. Despite his misery, he remembered feeling glad that Dumbledore had invited him up so he didn’t have to stew in his own self-pity. 

Snape was dragged out of his own thoughts by his own chuckle and Dumbledore’s answering one. The two of them began to laugh uncontrollably, and Snape watched in disbelief as tears filled his younger eyes. 

“Can- can you believe,” Snape choked out through his guffaws, “that Trelawney not only showed up to the feast already drunk, but that she also tried to come on to professor McGonagall?” 

Dumbledore chuckled. “That does not surprise me at all!” 

They both giggled as Snape looked on bemused, and in the background, Peeves tried to ride one of Dumbledore’s silver machines like a horse. What was this world he had entered? 

After a few minutes of laughter, Dumbledore seemed to sober up as the smile faded from his face. “At least she’s trying to make a connection of some sort,” he said quietly. “I suppose you and I are destined to die alone. But together.” At that, he still choked out a little chuckle before sobering again. 

Young Snape sat up a little straighter to consider Dumbledore’s face. “Maybe you will,” he said, half jokingly in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. 

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore acquiesced with a slight smile. “Do you believe that you shall find love again Severus?”

“No.” Snape replied decisively, now also somewhat sobered. 

“Now come my boy,” Dumbledore said tilting his head upward to look at him. “You fear the world too much.” 

“What of you then?” Snape retorted, frustrated at this new subject. 

“No, no. I am far past that. I can’t trust myself to fall in love again,” Dumbledore said with a sad smile and faraway eyes. “Not ever again.” 

Snape studied him for a moment before reaching for another bottle. 

“Well, may you be happy in the life you have chosen,” said Dumbledore. 

“I shall,” Snape replied, far more determinedly than older Snape knew he felt.

Dumbledore finally seemed to sense his discomfort, as he said, “Let’s have no more of that! Let us instead drink to our own good health!”

“Amen to that!” said Snape with a relieved grin. “Tell me, did you ever find the room filled with chamber pots again, or does it still elude you?” 

He and Dumbledore dissolved yet again into obnoxious giggles as young Snape grabbed a sherry bottle to try and pour it into Dumbledore’s mouth from his higher position in the chair. 

Older Snape laughed to himself at their antics, but after a large yawn, he was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible drowsiness; and, further, of being in his own bedroom again! Startled, he looked around the room, but it was unchanged. In just one blink of his eye, the Headmaster’s office had disappeared and his bed had replaced it. Peeves was nowhere to be found, but with his exhaustion overcoming him, he laid in his bed to go to sleep, not giving any thought to his strange visions or the promise Lucius had given of another spirit in less than an hour.


	11. Chapter 11

Despite his exhaustion, Snape still awoke as the clock inexplicably struck one again. With grumbling and only one eye open, he surveyed his rooms, but no bright light or annoying poltergeist filled the space. He sighed, and turned his back to face the wall, away from any meddlesome spirits. He drifted off for a bit before a hearty laugh sounded from the attached potion’s classroom. Snape immediately sat up to look at the door. 

Warm light was pouring through the door cracks, and the laughter continued. 

As Snape put his feet on the floor, he heard a familiar voice say, “Come in!” 

He hurried to the door and wrenched it open, but the sight that greeted him stopped him from actually entering. 

Food was everywhere. Fat, roasted turkeys littered the worktables with silver boats of thick, rich gravy floated nearby them and occasionally spilling their contents on the tops of the turkeys. Mountains of roast potatoes lay unceremoniously on the floor, their platters barely big enough to support these mountains. On the stools surrounding the tables sat plates of fat chipolatas, tureens of buttered peas, and bowls of cranberry sauce. Flaming Christmas puddings burned brightly on every other surface, and in the middle of all of this, sat a glowing, robed, jolly, giant Hagrid, munching on the smorgasbord and laughing all the time. 

“Come in!” exclaimed the apparition of Hagrid. “Come in! And know me better, man!”

“Hagrid, I already know you far better than I ever wished to!” Snape exclaimed, though he did come further into the room. “What, are you dead? Lucius wasn’t, but with your love of dragons you certainly could be. Why else would you speak in a manner so unlike your usual self?” 

It appeared that the first spirit had had little success in tempering Snape’s temper though he didn’t glare at Hagrid as he had Peeves. Hagrid merely smiled his crooked smile at him before responding. 

“Don’ you worry, Snape. I’m still livin’ and you ain’t dead either.” 

“I wasn’t worried for my own life,” Snape replied, realizing he had just admitted his own worry for Hagrid’s well being. “Never mind. I understand that you are the second spirit promised. Let me guess, you will be taking me to past Christmases to try to convince me that I have a life worth living?”

“Ah, you’re close there aren’ ye Snape? I been directed to take ye to the present-day Christmas, an’ not just fer ye to see that life’s worth living, but tha it can be happy.” 

“I see.” 

“Come along, no’ much time left.” Hagrid gestured to Snape to hold the sleeve of his robe as he rose to leave. Snape did as he was bid though with a little apprehension as the sleeve was slightly doused in gravy. 

“Hagrid?” Snape said, craning his neck to look at the giant’s face. “How exactly are you supposed to show me the present Christmas? Am I not currently living the present especially considering that it is one in the morning on Christmas day? And how can I possibly see memories of the present when it hasn’t yet happened?” 

“Well, I reckon I just got to show you what could happen on this Christmas day. Don’t need ta think abou’ it too much Professor. Won’t make sense anyway,” Hagrid answered with a half smile. 

“I suppose not,” he replied with a half smile to match. 

They walked together (with Snape just coming to Hagrid’s elbow and gripping tightly to his sleeve) to the door, which opened to reveal another bright light. Snape was no longer startled by anything though he was glad to finally be embraced by light rather than consumed by darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I'm really glad a lot of you are enjoying this story! I obviously stole all the descriptions of the feast from the Harry Potter books.


	12. Chapter 12

On the other side of the light, Snape and Hagrid appeared at the Hogwart’s Christmas feast, which was well underway. All the food Hagrid had been eating was duplicated onto the long tables in the Great Hall. Huge golden Christmas trees of varying sizes filled the room, with the biggest nearly brushing the enchanted ceiling and the smallest being as tall as a first year. Enchanted icicles hung from every single one with some being so large that impalement became a real concern. Candles with holly berries and leaves attached at the bottom floated in the enchanted ceiling, making the room incredibly bright and shining as delicate snowflakes sparkled and fell. At the head table, all the chairs were filled but one. Snape knew it to be his own. Apparently, he would miss the feast tomorrow morning as he was planning to get blackout drunk before this spirit debacle. He looked up self-consciously at Hagrid’s face to see if the giant judged him for being absent while Hagrid’s own self sat merrily at the table with the other staff members, but Hagrid merely beamed down at him. There were few students left for the Christmas break, but those who were didn’t sit at their individual house tables; instead, all the students were gathered together by the staff table. 

All except two. 

Two little Slytherins sat separated from everyone else. He recognized one as a first year and the other a third year. The first year had caught his attention from the moment he arrived as he also bore the signs of an unhappy home life. Snape knew the signs all too well, and had tried to pay extra attention to the boy’s wellbeing, though being consistently drunk at night didn’t help him with this goal. The two weren’t even sitting that close together, but they were closer to one another than to anyone else in the room. The other students were laughing and interacting with each other and with the teachers, but the two snakes ate quietly across from each other. Neither the students nor the teachers paid them any mind despite their obvious separation from the merriment. Maybe they thought they preferred to be alone or that they wouldn’t fit in with the jovial dynamic, but regardless it made Snape angry. Why was it always his snakes that were excluded?

“The arrogance,” Snape commented indignantly to Hagrid. “The other Houses with all their nobility think they are above interacting with my House. Why would they leave two children alone during a Christmas feast? Are Slytherins really so repulsive they can’t even break bread with them?” 

“I dunno Professor,” Hagrid said with a sad look on his face as he watched the two eat silently. “Prolly the same fer why they won’t eat with a giant.” 

Snape contemplated the big man for a moment before remarking “They’re eating with you right now, and you fit in almost too well.” 

It was fortunate that right as he chose to comment on this, the Hagrid attending the feast was pulling on a Christmas cracker with a young Hufflepuff. Corporeal Hagrid pulled a little too hard and the cracker exploded with a huge plume of red smoke while the spirit Hagrid laughed uproariously at his own folly. 

“Is true!” Hagrid agreed after he had stopped laughing. “But they know me pretty well by now. The war made it hard fer ‘em to forgive and forget eh?” 

“But these are children!” Snape replied emphatically. “The war is over and there were many Slytherins who fought and died on our side! Why do they always forget that?” 

“You aren’ there Snape.”

Snape looked up to see Hagrid looking at him with an expression he had never seen before. It was so serious and determined, and Hagrid was looking at him right in the eyes. 

“You aren’ there Snape,” he repeated. “Yer the only Slytherin they really do know is good. Who else can they look ter? Every o’er famous Slytherin is evil righ’?”

Snape was stunned into silence for a moment. The thought had never occurred to him before. It was true that no other good Slytherin was mentioned in any of his History of Magic classes, and the assumed blood prejudice assumed to be carried by all members of the House has been a part of its history since its founding. Slytherins were all prejudiced and Gryffindors were all noble. And priggish. Slytherins are all ambition and cunning. Descriptions from outsiders that seemed to be purposefully negatively skewed. Yes because words like “enterprising,” “pioneering,” and “ingenious,” “resourceful,” belong to a House more accepting of others. But prejudice goes both ways. Perhaps Slytherins would be less clannish if the other Houses didn’t treat them like the enemy, like there was something wrong with them because they were in Slytherin. 

“Be that as it may,” Snape replied after his long inner rant, “I don’t see why my presence at a feast should make such a difference. Many do not seem as a hero or as someone on the side of the light.” 

“True, but there’s no one else, eh? Ye could always help ‘em see Slytherin’s differen’ if ye wanted. Help ‘em learn to be together.” 

Snape contemplated this for a moment. Perhaps he was uniquely situated to help this transition from enemies to friends. Perhaps his empty chair was more harmful than good. Perhaps he had been selfish in leaving his snakes to fend for themselves in the aftermath of a war. 

The movement of someone looking over at his chair caught his eye and he turned to see that trademark fuzzy hair standing out at the staff table. None of the other staff members paid his empty chair any attention, but Hermione continually looked from his chair to his students with a concerned and slightly annoyed look. She looked rather concerned at the two Slytherins eating by themselves. Snape was happy to see that at least one staff member cared about his snakes. 

He was even more pleased and surprised when he saw her rise out of her seat and walk over to them. 

“Hello!” she said cheerfully. “I couldn’t help but notice you two sitting rather far away from everyone else. Wouldn’t you like to move closer to the rest of us? There’s more plum pudding over by me.” 

The two Slytherins looked at each other for a moment as though daring the other to speak. Finally, the third year looked up at her. 

“No thank you Professor. We’d rather stay here.” 

Snape could see Hermione warring between being too pushy and her constant desire to help everyone and everything. Eventually, her fear of being overbearing won out and she left them with a “Well, if you change your mind….”

As she walked back to her seat, Snape commented, “It was kind of her to try. Why on earth would they refuse her? Like every other Gryffindor she wears her heart on her sleeve. It’s obvious she only wants to help.” 

He suddenly realized he had talked too much about Hermione and tried to hide his embarrassment by coughing and looking pointedly away. 

“They don’ know ‘er,” Hagrid commented wisely without seeming to notice his embarrassment. “Fear goes both ways ye know? They think ‘cause she’s Muggle-born that she hates ‘em or won’ treat ‘em fairly.” 

“Ridiculous. Anyone who knows her even the tiniest amount knows that she-” Snape broke off suddenly, knowing that he was again talking to much. He went with “Hmm, well, I see,” instead. 

So, it seemed he was the only one who could help. He would have to actually come to the feast tomorrow to make sure no one sat alone. 

The chatter began to subside as Headmistress McGonagall stood to give the usual Christmas day speech. Snape had no wish to suffer through the speech twice. 

“May we leave now Hagrid? You’ve shown me how to alter my behavior and I intend to.” 

Hagrid gave him a warm smile and patted him heartily on the back, which made him stumble forward a few steps. 

“All righ’ then. On ta the next one!” 

He heard McGonagall begin with, “A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears…” 

But the rest of the speech faded away as light yet again filled the space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I haven't updated in forever! I'm at home for Christmas and things are a little crazy, but I will try to be more on top of it.


	13. Chapter 13

The next scene didn’t surprise Snape at all. 

They were in the Potter’s home during their annual Christmas party. 

Snape was invited every year due to the Potter boy’s incorrigible sentimentality. He had never gone, knowing it was a half-hearted invite out of pity for what he felt for Lily and misplaced guilt over always suspecting and occasionally attacking him. He didn’t need more pity or sidelong glances or conversations held exclusively behind cupped hands. Besides, the Potter boy had insufferably named his latest child after him. The embarrassment and shame and all around awkwardness was more than enough to keep him away from their home forever. But it seemed that Christmas-Hagrid was determined to drag him to the party at last. 

Despite never coming to the Christmas party, Snape recognized the over-the-top party decorations as the work of Ginny Potter. Number 12 Grimmauld place took on a similar look when the Weasley clan had Christmas there. Paper chains, snowflakes, and flowers covered the sitting room while a Christmas tree covered in popcorn chains and orange cloves. The tree was weighed down with so many ornaments it was a wonder it could stand upright. The star on top could only be held on with magic as it tipped each and every way with the unstable tree. Presents littered the bottom, and a small baby was pulling on several ribbons in an attempt to place them in its mouth. His redheaded mother came over to stop him and pull him into her arms. The sitting room was full of people laughing and drinking and chatting away. There was no more sitting room and hardly any standing room around the small half-circles of people grouped together. Laughter filled the house.   
Children were running every which way with various shades of hair and knocking over trays of food that the grown witches and wizards would then magic back in order. Snape recognized the oldest Potter boy, ‘James’ his brain supplied sneeringly, as the ringleader of the other rascals. James’s mother gave chase after him as he had grabbed her wand and was waving it about haphazardly. He also recognized two of his former students in the midst of the gaiety: Ron Weasley and Susan Bones. The two were curled around each other in an appropriately named love chair close to the fireplace with sickeningly sweet matching smiles as they talked with who Snape thought was the famous Quidditch star Victor Krum. Snape was surprised to see the couple as he was sure that Hermione and the orange oaf were an item at least that was how it seemed at the end of the battle.

“I thought Her- Miss Granger was in a relationship with Mr. Weasley.” 

Hagrid didn’t give him any strange looks so his interest must not have shown. 

“Aye, they were at the start,” Hagrid said knowingly while watching Weasley and Bones laugh together at something Krum had said. “But I think de weren’ too well suited fer one another ye know?” 

“Yes I do.” 

The party was well in swing when the Potter boy finally appeared on the stage. 

“Hello all! Thanks again for coming, and I thought we should play a game with everyone before we all get too drunk to do so!” 

This announcement was met with cheers and even more chatter. Snape could not help but roll his eyes at their childish enthusiasm. 

The game they decided to play was called Yes and No, where Harry thought of a noun, and the rest must find out what it is; he could only answer their questions yes or no, as the case was. It was like the game Twenty Questions, but in this case there was no end to the annoying inquires. The brisk fire of questioning to which he was exposed, elicited from him that he was thinking of an animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and was not a horse, or a cow, or a bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every fresh question that was put to him, Harry burst into a fresh roar of laughter as the crowd became even more and more frustrated and amused at their inability to guess correctly. At last, little James Potter (who had temporarily abandoned his tribe of children) cried out:

“I know! I know what it is, da! I know what it is!”

“What is it?” asked Harry.

“It’s Uncle Snape!”

At this, Harry could not help but cover his mouth with his hand and bend over in incontrollable laughter. Snape could not help but glare at Harry and his son who looked confused but happy at the reaction he was receiving from both his father and the surrounding crowd. Everyone was trying to cover their laughter at the child’s answer. 

“I-I meant a rat,” Harry choked out when he could finally speak again as he picked up his son to hold him in his arms. “But I suppose that works just as well.” He gave his son a fond but stern look of disapproval. “And since he gave us such a good laugh, it would be ungrateful not to drink his health. Raise a glass of butterbeer or fire whiskey to Uncle Snape!”

“To Uncle Snape!” everyone cried as they raised a glass. 

“A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the man, whatever he is!” said Harry. “He wouldn’t take it from me, but may he have it, nevertheless.” 

Snape was filled with a keen sense of annoyance but also strangely of amusement and fondness as he watched everyone drink to his health. This was why he never came to this party; how was he supposed to deal with both ridicule and admiration? He didn’t deserve such scorn or such gratitude. Overall, he felt a little snubbed but mostly bemused. He looked away from the crowds to see the girl Weasley make a beeline through the small groupings of people now resuming their conversations to her husband. 

“You should not be so rude to professor Snape!” Ginny said to her son disapprovingly. “And you should not encourage him!” she said to Harry with a fiery look in her eyes that matched her red hair. 

Harry gave her a sheepish look. “I’m sorry, Gin, but you have to admit the kid’s got spunk. And I did give a toast afterwards!” 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “He’s too much like you. You owe professor Snape too much to be acting like this!” 

“I invited him just like I do every year.”

“Yes well,” Ginny said, not satisfied but letting it go. “I noticed Hermione isn’t here either.” 

“I know,” Harry replied growing solemn. “Here would you mind taking him? I’m going to go check on her.” 

Potter handed James to his wife and headed towards the fireplace, clapping people on the back and laughing as he made his way through the crowd. Without looking to Hagrid, Snape darted forward to follow him. Potter took some floo powder from a flowerpot on the mantle, tossed it into the flames, stepped into the flames, and called out “Hermione’s flat!” 

Snape wasn’t sure of the physics of an incorporeal being in a present that had not yet happened traveling through a magic-fueled portal of fire, but he didn’t care. He stepped right beside Potter in the flames and placed a hand on his shoulder to somehow ensure that he would go along with him. If Potter felt the hand, he showed no outward sign, and they both disappeared from the fireplace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole so much from Dickens in this chapter....I hope that's okay, and I hope that you're enjoying this story!


	14. Chapter 14

Potter and Snape landed in Hermione’s flat together, and Snape was surprised to see that he made it too. He wasn’t sure if he would make it, but now he found himself in a small but tidy flat. Potter walked out of the fireplace and Snape followed. There was a couch right in front of the fireplace and a large window that looked out over some trees. Two large bookcases that reached the ceiling were opposite the window, and they were full of books of all shapes and sizes while still more books were piled on a small coffee table placed in front of the couch that Potter nearly tripped on as he walked out. 

‘Well, this is definitely Miss Granger’s apartment’ Snape smirked to himself. 'No one else would have so many books.’ 

Small plants littered a counter space that separated the sitting room from the kitchen, and Granger’s fluffy orange cat was lounging among the plants. He only looked up sleepily at them for a moment before going back to sleep. And there, in an armchair perpendicular to the couch, sat Hermione, with her legs curled up underneath her, a mug of hot cocoa in her hands, and an open book resting on her lap. 

She looked up in surprise when they arrived and looked slightly guilty when Potter walked closer.

“Hello Harry.”

“Hermione,” Harry said in a slightly exasperated tone, “what are you doing here?” 

“I’m sorry Harry,” she said sitting up straighter. “I know I said I’d try to make it this year, but it’s just…. it’s still hard for me to be around that many people.” 

Snape started in surprise (he knew no one could see him anyway). He hadn’t known that Granger was having a hard time adjusting after the war. The surprise morphed into disbelief at his own stupidity. Of course after all she had seen she was having trouble adjusting! That shite never leaves you. He looked at her more closely. She seemed so small in that chair despite her massive hair. She looked timid, which was not at all how Snape pictured her. She was fiery and brilliant, scared of nothing. Certainly not groups of people chatting. 

“Mione,” Harry said as he kneeled next to her, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that. But you could come for a little while right? We’d all love to see you.” He smiled at her and took her hand in his. “We miss you.” 

Hermione moved her other hand to cover his and gave him a sad smile. 

“I want to come too, Harry, believe me, but I…I’m no sure I can.”

“This isn’t about Ron is it?” 

Hermione snorted. “Not at all, though I don’t fancy seeing those two together. They’re just a little less nauseating that Ron and Lavender with all that ‘Won-Won’ nonsense.” 

They both laughed, and Snape looked on approvingly. Hermione should be laughing at that moron. 

“All right,” Harry relented, standing up. “But you will come for New Year’s yeah?” 

“Of course!” Hermione said, also standing up to hug him. “I’ll bring hats for all the kids!” 

“Great,” Harry said smiling. “I’ll see you around Hermione.” 

“See you Harry!” 

Potter left through the Floo, but Snape remained. He watched as Hermione seated herself again. She didn’t resume reading and her mug lay abandoned on the table. Instead, she was staring outside of the window. Snape couldn’t understand why she was here alone on Christmas day. Why wasn’t she at Hogwarts? Why board somewhere else? 

“Cause she can’t sleep at Hogwarts no more.” 

Snape jumped and let out a yelp that he would deny until hi next dying day. Hagrid had somehow appeared by his side and was looking at Hermione as well. 

“When the hell did you get here?!” 

Hagrid ignored him and just kept looking at Hermione with a concerned expression. What he said finally registered with Snape after his breathing returned to normal.

“Why can’t she sleep there?”

“Too many bad memories. More ghosts there than those ye see wanderin’ around.” 

It’s true that even after the rebuilding and construction Hogwarts wasn’t quite the same as it was, Snape considered. Some things were the same but others were just different enough that it tripped those up who had been there before the war. Statues that were in different places or destroyed, and paintings that used to be hung in prominent places were blasted away and their occupants missing. Though the staircases always moved they were generally in the same place. Now some seemed confused about where to go. It didn’t quite feel the same, and it was always hard to walk by where someone had died. Monuments now dotted the halls memorializing the dead, but they served as a daily reminder of the pain and loss all had suffered. He was proud that Hogwarts had stood against the dark lord, the last stand against the darkness. But it didn’t feel the same. Not quite like home. That’s why Snape drank. It seemed Hermione just rented a flat so she didn’t have to sleep there. Well, they all had to cope somehow. 

“Why won’t she go to the party than? Surely everyone there is her friend.”

“She thinks there’s somethin’ wrong with her. No one else seems to be havin’ trouble movin’ on while she can’t handle goin’ to the supermarket.” Hagrid turned to look at him. “She’s sufferin’ professor. She needs to know she ain’t alone.” 

“And what, you think I can help her with that?” Snape said incredulously. “I’m not the perfect picture of mental health and adjustment.” 

Hagrid have a hearty laugh in agreement at that. “No,” he said with a twinkle in his eye,” no, yer not that, but ye do care fer her, don’t ya?” 

Snape looked up at the giant’s face trying to gauge his emotions, but Hagrid still looked at Hermione. He couldn’t deny that he always felt a kinship to the girl, being smart and bookish with no one who was really interested in discussion and learning. He knew she was brilliant, but brilliance sometimes led down the wrong path. The drive to know sometimes led to learning too much, to learning dark and dangerous magic. This and her friendship with the Potter boy led him to treating her more harshly than any other student. She could not be touched with darkness and the Potter boy needed someone that intelligent and resourceful who was also good. He still didn’t understand how she could forgive him for what he had said and done during her formative years. Yet, somehow she had. She even tried to give him gifts every Christmas, and how had he repaid her? With cruelty and indifference in an attempt to shield his own heart. He really should get her a gift for tomorrow. 

“Now I know you’re not the real Hagrid. The real Hagrid would never have such insight into my soul. Yes I do care for her, but I think my past has sufficiently shown that those whom I care for end up the worse because of it. She is young and vibrant. She can work it out on her own.” 

Hagrid looked down at him reprovingly. 

“True, she don’t need you, but you could help ‘er. And she cares fer you as well.” 

“That she does not,” Snape replied schooling his features into a neutral expression. “And I do not harbor any feelings for her.” Even as he said this he couldn’t help looking at her, still sitting in that chair and gazing out the window. As if on cue, she finally returned to her book and reached for her mug. It only took one sip and a disgusted expression on her face for him to surmise that the cocoa had gone lukewarm. Snape smiled to himself at her expression, but quickly remade his features. “She does not care for me,” he repeated quietly to himself, “she can’t.” 

“She does. An’ you could help each oth’r if ye wanted. What’s the harm? Yer not her teacher no more.” 

“She does not care for me!” Snape replied angrily, glaring up at the giant. “And even if she did, she should not! I am old, bitter, resentful, and ugly! The only woman I ever loved I killed! She should run fast and far!” He stopped his rant to catch his breath, heaving slightly and breathing heavily. 

Hagrid gave him a long lingering look as Snape tried to collect himself. Finally he said “Isn’t that fer her to decide?” 

Snape broke their visually connection to stare again at Hermione. 

“Maybe so,” he replied quietly, more subdued. “But I cannot imagine that she could love me.” 

“So be it,” Hagrid said, and Snape found that Hermione was removed from his view and he was now staring one again at his abandoned bed with Hagrid still right beside him. 

“Ye make yer own happiness Snape,” Hagrid said seriously, turning Snape towards him and resting his meaty hands on Snape’s shoulders. “You have somethin’ to give, people tha still need yer help. Happiness is there fer ye, if you’ll only take it.” 

And with that, Hagrid was gone. Snape had no doubt that the third spirit would appear soon, but he couldn’t stop himself from once again falling into his bed from sheer exhaustion. And, if some tears fell before sleep overtook him, no one was any the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that I have to finish this story by Christmas Day and tomorrow's Christmas Eve (at least, in my time zone), so I'm probably going to be updating this a lot over the next two days. Also, there is finally some Hermione in my story! Yes!!!


	15. Chapter 15

The bell struck one. 

“Again,” Snape mumbled to himself. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. 

Snape looked about him for the Ghost, but didn’t see anything. Hagrid had been a bit late though, so he didn’t think much of it. When the clock stopped chiming, he lifted his eyes to see a solemn phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him. 

When Snape saw the specter approach, his first thought was not “this must be the last ghost.” Rather, he immediately thought, “a Dementor is attacking me,” and leaped out of bed, wand at the ready. Running purely on instinct, he cried out “Expecto Patronum!”

Rather than his usual doe appearing, he was shocked to see a Patronus in the shape of a phoenix forming before him. Its bright, intelligent eyes met his. It was huge and rather intimidating, but beautiful, with feathers of light surrounding its outstretched wings. Apparently, he had worked through his issues with Dumbledore as his Patronus now shared the same form as his. This also meant he had finally moved on from Lily. He felt an acute sense of guilt and shame fill him. ‘Always’ indeed. 

Snape turned his attention to the Dementor that had stopped about yard away from him and his phoenix. He couldn’t understand why his Patronus didn't attack or at least repel the phantom, but he also realized that no sinking feeling or terrible memories assaulted him (he had had quite enough of terrible memories for one night). Clearly, this was not a normal Dementor. 

‘This must be the third spirit,’ he thought as he cautiously lowered his wand to look more closely at the being invading his bedroom. He shared a glance with his Patronus and it seemed to immediately understand that it was no longer needed, so it vanished into nothing. Now, alone in his rooms with the hooded figure, he decided to try to address it. 

“Let me guess; I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas future?” said Snape. “Here to show me what my future will look like if I stay on my current trajectory?” 

The spirit didn’t answer, but pointed onward with its hand. 

“You wish to get on with it? Very well, let’s begin this last leg of our journey shall we?” Snape said, gesturing for the spirit to lead the way. 

The phantom glided forward silently, but abruptly tripped and fell face forward onto the stone floor with a dramatic “Ow!”

Snape looked in disbelief at the figure sprawled on his floor. Any apprehension he had felt about this spirit’s silent demeanor instantly vanished as he crouched down to remove its hood. His gaze was met with huge oversized glasses and a mountain of frizzy hair haphazardly gathered into braids and covered in beads and feathers. It was-

“Trelawney?!” 

“Oh dear,” professor Trelawney said as she hastily gathered herself to a standing position, her tone lacking its usual mystic quality. 

“You are the ghost of Christmas future?” Snape said incredulously, not quite believing his eyes. 

Trelawney stood a little taller and gathered her robe around her and replied in her most dignified manner, “Yes.” 

“You can’t even predict next week’s lunch menu, much less my future!” 

“Oh please Severus, you know better than anyone that I can, in fact, perceive through the veil to the great beyond,” she replied smugly, looking at him knowingly. 

Snape couldn’t argue with that, so, instead, he just rested his head in his hands for a moment in exasperation. He finally decided it was better to get this over with as quickly as possible so he could sleep, so he looked at her in her ridiculous get-up and declared, “All right. Let us continue this ridiculous journey.”

Trelawney looked slightly affronted, but knew better to talk back to the formidable Potion’s Master, so she simply pointed again. They walked once again towards his door, and as they walked through it, the setting morphed around them.


	16. Chapter 16

They appeared in the foyer of the Great Hall as small groups of students moved to lunch while others gathered in small groups to chatter and gossip. 

Trelawney stopped beside one little knot of young students conversing animatedly with one another, so Snape too advanced slightly closer to listen to their talk.

“No,” said a short blonde Hufflepuff, “I don’t know much about it, either way. I only know he died.”

“When did he die?” inquired the taller Ravenclaw next to her.

“Last night, I believe,” she replied. 

“Why, what was the matter with him?” asked a haughty Gryffindor girl with her hands on her hips. “I thought he’d never die.”

This was received with laughter from the Gryffindors in the group, slight smiles from the Ravenclaws, and shocked expressions from the Hufflepuffs. 

“It’s likely to be a very cheap funeral,” said the same speaker. “I don’t know of anyone who’d go to it. I suppose we have to go because he was a professor?”

“I think so,” observed the Ravenclaw. “Well, it’s probably not going to be until Thursday next anyway, so let’s go enjoy the Christmas feast!” 

They all started to move towards the Great Hall, but Snape and Trelawney remained in the foyer by the grand staircase as more and more students moved past the invisible guests. 

Trelawney had not lost the smug look on her face the whole time they had traveled together, and she kept it know as she said “You’re probably wondering who these students are talking about. Well, through my seeing eyes I can say that it is a poor, sad, lonely man who-“

“It’s me,” Snape said with certainty. 

Trelawney started in surprise and nearly fell on her face again. She looked up at him with a resentful expression and obvious dislike, which made Snape feel a small sense of satisfaction.

“Yes, well,” Trelawney said in an attempt to recover herself, “I suppose you didn’t need me to use my powers to tell you that you are sad and unwanted.” 

Snape gave her his patented scowl and death glare, and that got her to shut up quickly enough. He wasn’t surprised at all that the future dealt with his death; he had been anticipating his own death for some years now. It was a little shocking to hear the student’s reactions as he thought his status as a war hero would grant him some respect. Their total indifference to him was just a little surprising. Enough time had been spent among these cretins. 

“On to the next one,” he said, stepping forward confidently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we're getting there! We will finish by Christmas!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a few suicidal thoughts. Nothing too intense but they do occur.

Even though he had stepped forward with confidence, it turns out that he needn’t have. The room changed around them. It morphed into the Slytherin common room. Snape was surprised to see a much somber tone among those students gathered around the fireplace and on the couches and armchairs. There were black wreaths hung and black sashes covering the windows; a few students even wore black armbands. Quiet conversations took place between the gathered students until an older student stood up. It was clear from both his stature and his expression that he held seniority and respect from the other Slytherins. As he cleared his throat, the chatter died completely and the others turned to face him. 

“I didn’t know professor Snape very well, so I don’t know how qualified I am to speak,” the student said. “But I’ve heard stories. I know that he always looked out for his house, his Slytherins. He fought in the war for the light even if no one knew it until the end. He was a clever, resourceful Slytherin who cared deeply about his work as a Potion’s Master and in Defense Against the Dark Arts studies. So, at the feast, let’s raise an extra glass to professor Severus Snape.” 

“To professor Snape,” most of the other students echoed in response. A few older students with rebellious looks on their faces standing near the back said nothing.

“Why aren’t you saying anything Fenn?” the speaker said, addressing one of the silent students in the back. 

A sullen black-haired boy answered with a “Cause it don’t matter.” 

“Why doesn’t it matter?” 

“Cause Snape didn’t care about no one but himself. Why else would he drink himself to death?” 

There were a few murmurs of agreement as Snape looked on in shock. Surely his drinking wasn’t so bad that he would die relatively young? He chanced a glance at Trelawney, but the knowing look she gave reassured him of nothing. Apparently, he would die soon. Looking closer at the student who had given the actually rather touching if not vague eulogy, he thought he recognized him. And then he did. It was the young first year student he’d seen eating alone at the Christmas feast during his time with the Hagrid spirit. If this first year was barely a seventh year when he died, he had less than six years to live. This vision was a far more direct and abrupt command to change his life. If he didn’t, he would die far sooner than he had any right to. 

An argument had broken out among the students and at one point it even seemed like a fist fight was about to start and eventually settled itself, but all this was lost on Snape as he became more and more cocooned in his own thoughts. Now was the moment to decide if he wanted to live. He could continue on this path, the one that led to an earlier grave. He’d never actively thought of killing himself, but it was obvious that he was doing it all the same. If he wanted to die, all he had to do was keep doing what he was currently. But if he wanted a chance at life- well, he knew what to do. 

“It is difficult is it not,” commented Trelawney, “to suddenly realize that you control your own future. That the choices you make today could change everything or nothing. You’ve never been able to make your own choices have you? Not really.” 

This bit of wisdom was so out of character for Trelawney that Snape stared at her openmouthed. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” Trelawney said. “I do see beyond the physical minutiae into the realm of the invisible.” 

That was far more in character, so Snape regained his voice. 

“I have always made my own choices,” he replied, “but I never seem to understand the consequences.” He gave a little self-deprecating laugh. “And it seems that I still don’t.” 

“Well, perhaps this next vision will help make your decision for you.” 

Snape groaned as the room changed yet again.


	18. Chapter 18

He couldn’t take much more of this. The room was now again the Potter’s living room, and it seemed to be a gathering after the funeral if the clothes were anything to go off of. His funeral. 

All of a sudden it was too much for him to take. He didn’t want to see any of these reactions to his death. Happy or sad, he couldn’t deal with all these emotions. There was only one person he wanted to see, one person whose reaction he had to know, and even a precursory glance was enough to tell that she wasn’t here. He would have to go to her. 

As he turned to go to the fireplace, a hand gripped his arm to stop him. Trelawney was looking more mad than usual in her owlish glasses and out-of-control hair as she screeched at him, “you can’t leave!” 

“Yes I can,” Snape said, determinedly stepping out of her grip.

“I am your guide!” 

“You told me to make my own decisions,” Snape replied, “and I am. Goodbye Trelawney.” 

“You- you-,” she sputtered out, but by then he was reaching for the Floo powder, stepping in the fireplace, and calling out “Hermione’s flat!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this doesn't seem rushed. I just really want to finish it in time! Oh well, I can always go back and fix it right?


	19. Chapter 19

“Hermione!” Snape called out the second he could climb out of the fireplace. “Hermione!” he called again before remembering that no one could hear him in these bizarre trips through space and time. 

Hermione’s flat was unchanged since the day he had visited it with Hagrid. The plants were bigger and more overgrown and the fluffy ginger cat was replaced with a small black kitten, more books were lying about, but nothing else seemed altered. The armchair by the fire was empty. 

Snape didn’t know what the ethics were of wandering around a flat that you weren’t invited to as a ghost, but he couldn’t care less. He marched into the kitchen, but seeing no one there proceeded to what had to be the bedroom. He passed through the locked door to see a figure lying on the bed asleep. Hermione lay fully dressed on the bed in her black clothes, snoring slightly. Snape could see the evidence of tear-tracks on her cheeks as she slept deeply. He tried to touch her cheek, but found that his hand just went through her. He thought he would be happy that someone at least was sad he died. However, all he felt was sorrow that he caused her pain even if this was all just a hallucination. 

He thought of the young Slytherins eating alone on Christmas day and that same Slytherin boy all grown and trying his best to pay some respects to a fallen professor. He thought of his mother trying her best to give him a Christmas. He thought of drinking with Dumbledore, of the Potter’s Christmas party, of Peeves’s foolishness, Hagrid’s grin, and Trelawney’s befuddlement. He thought of Lily’s smile and his phoenix Patronus. He thought of Hermione’s smile and her kindness. He thought of all he had sacrificed and all the good he could still do for those who needed him. 

“I can’t live just for you, I have to live for myself,” Snape said quietly as he looked at her face. “I don’t know how to do that, but you make me want to try.” 

Distantly, he heard the chiming of a clock, and as his vision faded again, he kept his eyes fixed on Hermione’s face until the last.


	20. Chapter 20

Snape opened his eyes slowly, half expecting to see another apparition come to torment him with all his failings. Instead, he saw his own bed and felt his own quilt covering him. Yes! The bed was his own, the room was his own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own! He sat up quickly and stood patting his arms and legs to make sure everything was still in order. A glance at the standing grandfather clock told him that it was now nine o’ clock, but as to whether it was day or night, he could not tell. Had he already missed his chance to change the future? 

Heedless of his current state of dress, he ran out the door and up the stairs to get out of the dungeons. The fact that he had a wand, which could conjure the time, quite escaped his notice in his rush to reach a window. Finally, he arrived, out of breath and slightly damp with sweat, at the entrance hall. Impatient to see, he pushed open Hogwarts’ front doors.

Sunlight enveloped him, and with after a moment of basking in it, he opened his eyes. Fresh, white snow covered the grounds. The light gleamed harshly off the snow blinding him temporarily until his eyes adjusted. Though the grounds looked beautiful, Snape realized in frustration that just because it was daylight outside didn’t mean that he hadn’t slept for two days and missed Christmas altogether. 

As he continued to look out at the grounds, a familiar figure came stomping towards him through the snow. It was-

“Hagrid!” Snape called out in relief. The giant had nearly reached him now, a giant pine tree being pulled behind him on a makeshift sled. 

“’ello professor,” Hagrid said cheerily. “What are ye doin’ out here in yer night clothes?” 

Snape spared a glance downward at his apparel (a long dressing gown) before responding, “I had to check what day it is. Tell me, please, what day is it today?”

“Why, it’s Christmas day, innit?” said Hagrid, giving him a strange look but still smiling nonetheless. 

“It’s Christmas Day!” said Snape to himself. “I haven’t missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night.” 

“Er, ye alrigh’ there professor?” 

“What?” Snape said, just realizing that he’d been running his hands through his hair absent-mindedly. “Yes, yes I’m fine. Hagrid,” Snape said turning to him and craning his neck to look him in the eyes, “what do you remember from last night?” 

“Las’ night?” Hagrid repeated in surprise. “Well, wasn’ doing much. Jus gettin’ ready fer Christmas day and the feast.” 

“Right, of course.” 

Of course his dreams and visions weren’t founded in reality. ‘But does that make them any less real?’ Snape mused to himself. Looking up at the giant again, Snape recalled how kind Hagrid had been to him even if that Hagrid was just a phantom. 

“Thank you, Hagrid.”

Hagrid smiled at him again. “Weren’ nothing.” 

“Yes, well,” Snape said a little uncomfortably (this was all new to him after all), “is there anything I can help you with?” 

“Nah, thanks jus the same though,” Hagrid said. “I got to get this last tree into the Great Hall ‘fore the feast. See ye there, eh?” 

“Right, the feast,” Snape said excitedly. “I will most certainly be attending.” 

“So long then,” Hagrid said, moving past him into Hogwarts’ foyer. 

Snape followed after taking a moment to admire the scenery before again bolting down the stairs to prepare for the feast.


	21. Chapter 21

The feast was just as grand as the one he dreamed of, and the specific details of the visions matched entirely with the reality. Perhaps, they were not just fanciful dreams. The tall, golden Christmas trees still decorated the hall and the mountains of food still weighed down the tables, but this time, Snape was here physically. And that was not all he intended to change. Instead of letting his two Slytherins sit alone and apart from everyone else, he insisted they come sit with him. And rather then sitting at the high table with the other professors, he joined the other students. Their surprised reactions were a source of great amusement to him, but the best gift of all was Hermione’s expression. Judging by her gaping mouth and raised eyebrow, she could not believe that she was seeing the fearsome Potion’s Master sitting at a table with students of all different houses, passing gravy and pulling crackers, all the while with a smile on his face. The smile seemed out of practice, but it was a nice smile all the same. It was even better when, for a moment, he directed it at her.


	22. Chapter 22

Later that evening (after making sure his two snakes felt wanted that Christmas and had activities to occupy themselves for the rest of the day), Snape stood before his fireplace, the perfect picture of anxiety and apprehension. He knew what he had to do, but getting up the nerve to do it was another matter entirely. 

‘Surely, it won’t be too bad,’ Snape reasoned inwardly. ‘I merely have to make an appearance. And I’m sure these modified chamomile sweets for the children to help them sleep will be much appreciated. It won’t be so bad.’ 

Despite these thoughts, he still hesitated. 

“Come on!” he said aloud, impatiently. “You’ve faced the dark lord, you’ve stood in front of thousands of students and taught, you’ve discovered nine unique varieties of mint, you can go to a party!” 

With newfound determination he threw the powder and stepped into the flames, crying “the Potter’s” as he went.


	23. Chapter 23

He supposed the stunned silence ought to be a compliment, but it didn’t make it any easier to walk out of the fireplace and into the gathered crowd. He did take the opportunity to relish Potter’s expression when he realized who had come through the Floo. He seemed to be shocked dumb. Mrs. Potter recovered far quicker and better than her husband, so it was to her that he handed his small gift. After he was done instructing her as to its usage and she had thanked him, Potter seemed recovered enough to speak. 

“Professor!” he said walking towards him and taking his hand, “I’m so glad you could come!” 

Snape almost sneered, but when he listened closely, he could hear the sincerity in the boy’s voice. 

“Thank you for inviting me,” he replied in his most courteous tone. “And please, call me Severus.” 

Harry seemed to go yet again apoplectic with shock, but what he lacked for in speech he made up for with a quick hug that was uncomfortable yet comforting at the same time. 

“I will, Severus,” Harry said smiling. “Truly, thank you for coming. Come and meet the boys!”   
Snape met both the Potter children and other children of former students, and while none of them made a deep impression, the littlest Potter boy who couldn’t be more than a year old reached out and held onto his finger and wouldn’t let go. Snape had smiled at that and thought that maybe children were not so bad after all. 

He entirely avoided the corner where he knew the Weasley boy to be. He may be a changed man, but nothing could change him quite that much. Best to avoid that meeting altogether. 

He also looked about for Hermione, but realized that his visions had also predicted this correctly. She was nowhere to be seen. 

After Potter had finished the “Yes, No” game (little James did not guess Snape this time as he had actually met the man), Snape volunteered to check on Hermione, and to see if he could not convince her to come. Harry was so shocked by his offer that, before he could think better of it, Snape was already gone.


	24. Chapter 24

The apartment was the same. Hermione sat in that same chair with the same book and the same precarious mug of hot cocoa. The only change was, yet again, her expression. Surprise but also suspicion filled her eyes as she took in the stoic professor who had suddenly appeared in her fire. 

“May I please come in?” Snape asked in what he hoped was a polite tone. 

“Of- of course, professor Snape.”

“Please,” he said coming forward to stand nearer to her, “please call me Severus. We are colleagues are we not?” 

“Yes,” said Hermione, unfolding her legs from out from under her and placing her mug on the coffee table. “Yes we are. Though, you never expressed any interest in associating as colleagues.” 

Snape winced slightly. “I know. I was hoping that, perhaps, we could try to be, at the very least, friends.”

“Friends,” she repeated quietly. 

“ I know I have done nothing to earn it,” he said, coming to a one-legged kneel beside her chair, “and I know I’ve been cruel to you. But I truly wish to make amends, starting with thanking you for this.” 

As he said this, he pulled out of his coat pocket an emerald green scarf that Hermione had obviously knit for him by hand. There were a few lumps and uneven edges, but overall, the effect was very nice. 

“I can honestly say that I’ve never had a Christmas present as nice as this. Even your other gifts don’t compare when I think of the time and effort you spent on this only to have me shut the door in your face.” 

Hermione said nothing. She merely looked at from the scarf to his face and back again. 

“I am truly sorry,” he continued on nervously, “and I don’t expect this to in any way make up for how I’ve treated you, but I wanted to give you this.”

He reached into his pocket, replaced the scarf, and removed a tiny box that he then handed to her. 

“It isn’t much,” he rambled on as she started to open it, still saying nothing, “but I thought I should give you something of my time and effort.” 

Hermione slowly undid the ribbon around the small box and opened the lid to reveal a small, glowing green stone attached to a thin piece of black string. Hermione fingered the necklace for a moment before looking up expectantly at Snape for further enlightenment. 

“I, well I made a Calming Draught, crystalized it and formed it into this medallion. After a little bit of tricky spell work, I’ve managed to make the potion’s effects accessible to the wearer without any kind of consumption necessary.” 

Still she said nothing as she continued to roll the necklace over in her hands. It was starting to make Snape sweat behind the ears.

“I, I know that you may have had trouble after the war adjusting to normal life again,” he said carefully. “I have also experienced much of the same. This amulet should help to calm you in stressful situations and environments.” 

‘Why isn’t she saying anything?!’ he thought frantically. 

“I thought that, with this trinket, you might be able to go to more crowded areas, and so you might like to go to the Potter’s party.” He steeled himself to say this next part. “Perhaps, with me.” 

She finally met his eyes. Snape could feel his nerve fading with each passing second, but right as he was about to take back his invitation, she smiled at him. A sigh of relief went out of him, and he smiled in return. 

“Thank you,” Hermione said standing up. She moved closer to him and gave him a brief hug before smiling up at him, arms still holding his, and said, “I’d love to go to Harry’s party with you. But on one condition.”

“Anything,” Snape said, feeling both giddiness and a bizarre sense of terror. 

“You go as my date.” 

Hermione laughed at his dumbfounded expression. Eventually, after a minute or two, he was able to laugh as well and offer her his arm as they stepped through the Floo together.


	25. Epilogue

Things did not and could not change overnight. Severus continued to work on being kind to others around him, noticing the needs and suffering of others, and living in the present and the future, not just the past. 

There were struggles. Turns out it’s a lot easier to do the right thing when a nighttime spirit (possibly created by your own brain) shows you specific things, scenes, and outcomes that have to be changed to be good. To perceive them on your own was sometimes a difficult task. 

He was not perfect. But he tried, and more often then not, he succeeded. 

Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh. He could now laugh at himself, and just because he was kinder and more attentive didn’t mean that he couldn’t still frighten first years into wetting themselves. He was just more selective about the who and the when. 

His drinking lessened over time until it was only at parties or special occasions. 

Hermione was a frequent visitor to his dungeons, and it was not unusual for McGonagall to come upon the two resting in armchairs reading from large tomes and never saying a word. Her little black cat seemed to practically live in his rooms, and eventually, it seemed as though Hermione did too. 

And it also seemed that Hermione could finally sleep at Hogwarts again. 

The spirits never had occasion to visit him again as he remembered every year to love those around him. Ever afterwards, it was always said of Severus, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, with laughter and friends. May that be truly said of us, and all of us!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we did it! We made it to the end! And on Christmas day too! (Well, at least where I live). I hope you all enjoyed the story and that you have a happy holiday and a merry New Year!


End file.
